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February 19, 2003
February 19, 2003 Angry. That’s what I am. I’ve had anger issues for years. Many years ago when I went to therapy, the therapist told me I had a lot of anger. I though she was nuts. But, it’s true, I guess I finally have to admit to myself that it’s true. I’m angry all the time. I successfully suppress it most of the time, but, lately, I’ve been failing even at that.
I don’t know what I’m angry about. I’ve never known what I was angry about. Just angry in general. Angry at myself? Angry at someone specific? Angry in general? In general, I think. I think I just get so damned angry because I try so hard. I try hard at being liked and loved and respected. And, even if I succeed 99.9% of the time, it’s that damned .1% that just eats away at me. I’ve always been that way. I accept the fact that I’m not perfect. But, I try to really perfect those areas that I’m terrific in, sort of an apology to the world (maybe myself) that I’m deficient in some other ways. Hoping, that I will shine so brilliantly in the ways I’m so terrific, that the not so terrific, will be excused—forgive—forgotten. Then I’m faced with not excusing—forgiving—forgetting myself, and figure, well, then, why the hell should someone else?!
I’m just tired, I guess. I haven’t written much in along time. I get this little inkling that I’m happy again, and I think, oh, boy, here it’s going to come again and I’ll be able to write. I feel like when I write it should be brilliant. If not brilliant, at least it should be pithy. If not, pithy, at least erstwhile?
Yesterday, I was stuck in the mire of unwanted garbage e-mail and came across a subscription that I actually want. I haven’t read them lately because I am so sick of the unwanted e-mail that I comb through the stack and delete anything that isn’t—my sisters, my friend, or Jack. (DUH) This one was from Writer’s Digest. I used to subscribe to the paper magazine, but, I gave up on that. Anyway, this article I was drawn too, just said—WRITE! Don’t write for quality, write for quantity. Well, I can do quantity! Brilliant—maybe not. Pithy—probably not. Erstwhile—never!
Aha, I think! That’s the problem. I haven’t written because I’m unhappy. I haven’t written because I haven’t been brilliant, etc. etc. So, I’m just writing. I have no idea what will start coming from me. Some will be good. Some may scare my family and friends. And some will be just blogging. Nope, Ann, you’re right, I prefer prattle. But, I intend to start writing again.
I’ve stopped talking to my husband because he criticizes everything I say. So, I figure I’ll stop talking to him. I’m pretty good at it for awhile, but, then it gets old because I have things to say, whether he likes it or not. I guess that’s the forum that has opened up here again—I just intend to start writing, because I have things to say!
January 4, 2003
There are so many things jumbled up in my mind tonight, that I can’t seem to focus on only one thing. But, I feel the need to prattle. I’ve just completed putting photos of Blarney Castle on the site. My soul is so touched by Ireland. I want to return. I am determined that I shall. I’m currently reading a Nora Roberts book. I’m so thrilled to recognize the areas that are described. When she writes of the green grass, the stone walls simplistically dividing property. I can see it. I can actually go to my photos and pull up the very scene. When she describes the lilting voices of the Irish people, I can hear it. The pubs—I’ve been there—done that! I can barely swallow back my urge to giggle out loud. I’m about to commit a mortal sin in the eyes of the Irish people—I don’t like Guinness! I’m sorry, truly I am, but, I just don’t like it. I’ll glady lift a glass of Sharp’s, but, Guinness doesn’t do it for me. I tried. I really did. But, nope. Don’t like it. It has been a lot of fun revisiting Ireland. I’ve got tons more photos to share, too.
I told my husband one night last week that I was really sorry to see Christmas come to a close. He looked at my dumbfounded. He was brave enough to ask: “Didn’t you tell me on Christmas night that you were glad it was all over? That you ‘hate’ Christmas and was glad to see it go because it meant nothing but sadness and emptiness?” Of course I had to admit, that yes, I had said that. But, I then told him, why I was sad to see it come to end. I was sad because the spirit of christmas had finally visited me while I was off last week, and it was too late. So, I put away the few token decorations I put up in the house, but, I secretly rebelled. I bought a new trinket last week while I was off. It was on sale (HOORAY). It’s a delightful snowman with a glass for a votive candle. I left him on the bookcase. He may stay there until christmas, or I might tuck him away later. Doesn’t matter. I know what he symbolizes.
I know she’ll correct me if I’m wrong when she reads this, but, if I’m not wrong my sister Barbara plays christmas carols anytime of the year she feels like it. Maybe it’s not her, maybe it’s one of my other sisters.
I’ve a pet peeve today. I absolutely despise the 80 degree weather we’re having right now. I know I should be crazy, but, for God’s sake, it’s January! I envy the people back east who are digging out of 2 feet of snow. Oh, I know I’d be complaining about it if I were there, but...!
My sister thinks I’m crazy, because she was telling me today that her husband was outside two days in a row to plow away the snow in New Hampshire. But, I want it to be winter. I haven’t worn my sweaters or my leather jackets, and I want to.STOMP! POUT! POUT!
I’m going to Las Vegas next weekend. I checked the weather on-line and see the forecast is 58 degrees for the high and 37 degrees for the low. But, I’m not getting too excited yet. My luck, I’ll bring this cursed good weather with me. Thank God for air conditioned casinos, huh?
Well, this truly was a prattle. If felt damn good. Yep, DAMN good! :-)
December 23, 2002
Forty-five years ago today my father died. I have vague pictures running through my head. Deep sadness. Crying. Fear. And, the unknown. I remember be carted off in one of my brother’s arms (don’t remember which one) to the neighbors (Lois Spencer) house. And, I can remember being distracted wondering what was going on at home. And, yet, I can remember playing with my friends. I was four. That’s all I remember of that day. And, yet, I’m almost 50 years old and I shed a tear today. Certainly not for my father, I have no idea who he is. I don’t know who I shed the tear for. My mother? Me? For a child’s loss in general? I don’t know. And, the memories of my father that I think I have I’m not sure are really mine, or are they stories I’ve heard. But, the memory of that day and of a day that follows are really mine. I can reach out and touch them with my heart. And, I can see the shadows and the flickering lights through my mind’s eye.
It’s a sad way to begin a prattle. I was browsing my web site today at work during lunch. I haven’t written anything since July of this year. I miss it. I miss writing my prattles. And, updating my photos. And, writing poetry. I miss it, yet, I am stifled. I’m sad and I miss my friend who inspired me to write. Ah, yes, another loss. I’m filled with loss today. And, yet I can’t help but feel I am filled with hope because of it. I felt the old stirrings inside of me. An inside that has felt rather dead for a year and a half. Oddly enough that’s the time my friend has been gone. A little more actually. How can I let one person have such a profound effect on my soul. A soul that had been repaired because of him, is as easily broken because he went away. I don’t particularly like that side of me. Letting people determine my happiness. Letting people determine my worth. Oh, it’s not their fault It’s totally mine. Thirty years ago, my husband did the same thing to me. Left. Took my soul, nutured it. Made it live and love and laugh. And, then just as easily took that same soul, twisted it, ripped it apart and cast it aside.
In a fit of fury, hurt, confusion and loss that I experienced today, I also gained great insight into my soul. It is a season of epiphany and I had one today sitting at my desk staring at my dusty, moldy untended website. In that fraction of a second, my soul reached out and touched Peggy Lee. Actually felt her. Touched her, felt her warmth and love and light and laughter once again. Welcomed her back. I feel great things stirring inside of me. It would not surprise me one bit, that the flutter in my heart and mind is my muse returned from exile. Her wings are tickling my senses. And, stirring my thoughts like a soft wind rustles the grass underneath the sun’s rays.
July 21, 2002It’s been a fantastic weekend. I took off both Saturday and Sunday. I did some things around the house that were desperately needed. I’ve cleaned and sorted. Read and relaxed. I think I’ll be going back to work tomorrow refreshed. Last week was very hectic. I had 5 new employees. I spent the week getting the set off on the right foot. It meant devoting hours to them that I personally should have devoted some place else. But, I believe I invested my time wisely.
It is so odd to have two days off of work. Ever since I started work in 1972, I’ve always worked long hard hours. Originally it was because I was so poor, I couldn’t live if I didn’t have extra pay from overtime. I’d leave my job on Friday afternoon at 4:30 and report to another department to work overtime. Sometimes, I wouldn’t leave on Friday night until midnight. Returned on Saturday all day and not go home until midnight. And, finish up on Sunday evening around 11pm typing while technicians dictated their proposal edits to me so that I could photo copy the finishe product. They’d dash off on an airplane the next day to Washington, D.C. where they would present their proposals. Sometimes those proposals amounted to millions of dollars.
Just imagine how my ego feels knowing that I had an important role in making that happen. As the years passed, I was just always worked extra time. I am proud to say today that I can do just about anything I want to do and it’s all because I invested my time wisely. While others were partying, I was working. Now, I can party in between working overtime! LOL
That’s the message I was trying to give these new people. Invest in your jobs wisely. It “IS” the key to success and the “partying” of your future!
March 5, 2002When I was a much younger woman, I was seeing a gorgeous man (yes, there was a man before my husband!) who sold insurance. He beguiled me with stories of traveling all over the country. I thought how wonderful that must be considering I came from an area where a “BIG” trip was going 30 miles to the capital of Rhode Island from where I lived.
I just got done with a two day trip to Oakland, CA and a five day trip to Palm Springs, CA. Home Thursday night, left Friday morning. Sounds exciting doesn’t it? Well, in truth it was exciting, all of it, but boy was it tiring, too. I’m fortunate enough to have been on vacation for the past five days which helped me relax. Well, almost relax, I brought the work laptop with me. That was great since I was testing it out, but, not so great considering it ended in a huge fight...why, are you looking at work e-mail that upsets you when WE’RE ON VACATION! Of course he was right, which truly does piss me off!!!!
You know, in an earlier prattle, I told you how I felt about seeing national guardsmen at the airport the first time I flew after 9/11. I have a new tale to tell. I can now tell you how violated I felt last Wednesday morning when I was patted down. Yes, I was frisked! I could hardly believe it. I beeped when I went through the x-ray. A wand, I was expecting, but, when I felt hands on my body (uninvitied hands!) I felt totally violated. I even had to take my shoes off. And, have the soles of my feet checked with the wand.
Anger swelled inside of me. Oh, not for the person who was frisking me, but, for that madman, Osama bin Laden, who has raped my innocence. Who has changed the world as I know it, who has made my rights to move about my OWN country freely, an ordeal.
And, for making me notice two middle-eastern men who boarded the plane after me. NOTICED them with alarm. NOTICED them with the thought, where are they sitting (across the aisle from me)? Do they look dangerous? What will I do if they try something? (Kick their ass, of course!) Once again my innocence was raped. And, poor them. I wonder do they move about through their normal paces in fear that someone might harm them? Like I feared them, however briefly? I didn’t like how that made me feel, not one damn bit.
Someone expressed surprise when they considered how “un-terrorist” I looked. Short, pale, blonde woman with blue eyes! He said, he thought I wouldn’t fit the profile. I disagreed with him. I told him I had fit a profile. I fit, the unlikely a terrorist, so let’s frisk her so that the ACLU won’t say we’re discriminating against people we’ve profiled.
This world is insane. I swear the longer I live the less I like the world around me and MOST of the people in it!
The least they could have done is let the tall, handsome, BIG national guardsman frisk me rather than the runty little “girl” who probably didn’t like that part of her job either!!!!!!
February 24, 2002Tired. I’m emotionally tired. It’s a weakness. I think it’s what happens when you’ve got the world in the palm of your hand. It’s what happens when you sit down and think, gee, my life is so terrific. I’ve got it all. All, has a price that goes with it. In the past several weeks, I wonder if I’m cut out to be a manager. I am, of course, I know that. But, that too has a price. Two men I absolutely adore in my life have this wonderful ability to think and act logically. I’ve often loathed that ability. Criticized them for having no feelings. I’d give anything if I could slip into a pair of trousers and just think and act logically! The decisions I have to make effect other peoples lives. And, in so making those decisions it effects me. I am emotion. I would gladly trade the emotion for logic, right now! Have to go now, there’s a pity party in the making...
January 1, 2002I pondered the pros and cons of writing a prattle about what I was feeling when faced with a second mammogram. At first, I thought how stupid to display myself in public with senseless worry. Oh, yes, I can already hear a couple of your thoughts that it wasn’t senseless. Okay, I’ll concede to that. But, you have to consider what my feelings were. I considered it a sign of total and complete weakness. I have pondered this for weeks and weeks. Silently telling myself, there’s probably nothing to worry about, yet also, taking myself to the unthinkable—what if?
Here’s the absurdity of it—I wanted to be as brave as my sister was. So, I felt stupid with my worry over something I didn’t know was for real. My catastrophizing days ago convinced me that something else would interfere with my not going to Ireland. When my friend asked me if I was nervous, I told her no. That really wasn’t a lie. At the moment I told her I wasn’t, I wasn’t. But, yesterday morning as I drove to the hospital, my stomach churned. I tried to convince myself it was because of the aversion I have for anything medically related, not to mention removing my clothes related!
I looked at the x-rays as the technician pointed out the spot where the doctor wanted more films. And, asked questions. What I thought were calm, intelligent questions. When she left the room in search of the doctor, I was left alone reading a book. When she returned and told me that I didn’t have to have an ultrasound, the doctor said there was nothing to worry about, and he would “see me next year!”, I almost bolted off the stool and hugged the technician. So, instead, I just said, in a weak little voice, “Uh, can I give you a hug?” She smiled, saying, “Sure. You really were worried weren’t you.” Then I admitted, yeah I was. Tears filled my eyes and my throat constricted. I think I would have cried, if I hadn’t had to step in to the nurse’s clinic for my flu shot.
What a relief! LOL LOL LOL!!!!!!
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